expectations
by
Morgan
The world is frozen
over.
I am still stinging from
the cold, not quite numb.
Icicles bite at my ears,
my nose, my mouth.
You are glowing with
warmth.
I’m not ready to melt.
You are an enigma.
A code impossible to
crack.
I want to know if your
brain whirs at a million miles a minute
as you stare into space.
Maybe you’re thinking
about me.
Probably not.
I like solving puzzles.
Nancy Drew haunted me
through middle school.
You’re harder to solve
than the Secret of the Old Clock.
I want to know what
makes you tick.
How do you understand
the world?
As we walk away from our
prison at the end of the day,
you don’t say much.
Worn out, perhaps.
Exhausted by the
futility of life.
Or perhaps Lucretius
guides you. Seneca. Aristotle.
I try to look closer.
Look beyond the wind in
your hair and the flush in your cheeks.
See the real you.
You’re blinding.
You look back at me.
My teeth are chattering.
My cheeks burn with
cold.
Yours just burn.
Tell me who you are.
Show me the contents of
your soul.
You open your mouth to
speak to me.
I am ready to
understand.
It is silent for a
moment.
And then.
“So, could you send me
last night’s math homework?
I played video games
until two a.m. and forgot to do it.”
Sometimes a cigar is
just a cigar.
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